


Real

by FenHarelsPride (Andauril)



Series: Siryn Lavellan [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Melancholy, hot baths, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/FenHarelsPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cold winter evenings are an opportunity for closeness neither Solas nor Lavellan would miss ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real

Water dripped from her skin and her hair onto his skin as she leaned over, and her skin brushed over his own, wet and warm and soft. She pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose, shifting in the bathtub and stirring up steam.

“Turn around, Solas.”

At his questioning stare, Siryn laughed. “You’re terribly stiff again. Turn around. I know what I’m doing.”

He hesitated only a moment longer until he did as she had asked, and felt her warm hands at his back, a soft touch at first that turned firm and yet careful, moving across his shoulders and done his spin, rubbing and kneading …

“You are skilled in it”, he noted, while her warm hands messaged his neck.

“A little … I never was a good healer, so Deshanna figured out a way how I could still help the hunters of my clan with what little healing magic I had mastered …”

He sighed when a jolt of magic run down his neck, crept across his spine, and closed his eyes, content to let her work her magic and feel her fingers easing away the tension in his back. He had not even been aware of it until he felt himself melt under her palms and fingers … It should not have surprised him that she was a skilled kneader, he mused. He had seen her form the most detailed figures from clay …

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to get so tense”, she mumbled at his back, pressing a warm, wet kiss to his neck. “What have you done all day?” She paused, even though her hands were still kneading his back. “The basement library, right?”

“I could not risk sending someone down there, _vhenan._ The tomes I needed are important for …” He moaned when she rubbed another tense knot in his back away.

“I don’t doubt it, _sa’lath_ , but you’re not getting younger either …”

“I would doubt it has anything to do with my age.”

Her laugh vibrated against his neck, and he could feel her hair tickle his shoulders while her hand slid down deeper, massaging his hips. Solas could not resist the pleased shudder that run down his spine … She truly was excellent in this skill.

“Don’t worry, _vhenan_ , that doesn’t mean I think you’re _old._ ”

Solas said nothing, for once grateful that she could not see his face, as he was not quite sure if he would have been able to hide his grin from her. She would certainly think of him as old should she learn his _real_ age … The irony was far from lost on him.

She drew another sigh from his lips with her skillfull hands before he heard her palms splashing into the water.

“Your back should be alright now.”

“Thank you.” He turned around, meeting her gaze.

“My pleasure …” She smirked, drawing closer until she came to rest between his thighs. “But I know some ways for you to make it up for me … If you’d like …”

Solas laughed. “I would be able to think of something.”

He had an inkling what it was she had in mind, and it was quite certainly not the unpleasant way to spend the winter months, while snow made the streets through the Frost backs impassable. He would treasure the opportunity to spend more time with her, as he knew all too well that he would not be able to hold her forever. Every moment with her was to be treasured.

 

Her hair was still damp, but it was no bother.

Moments like this were precious and fleeting … She appeared peaceful, looking up to him underneath half-closed eyelids, leaning against his touch while her head rested in his lap.

The flames in the fireplace cast a warm shine over her golden skin and grazed her pale hair with a red shimmer. She hummed a please sound as he laced his fingers with hers, rubbed the knuckles of her left hand with his thumb.

Her smile was bright and sweet, just a little tug on the corners of her lips, private and only meant for him. He could not help but return it, and she leaned deeper into his palm. His fingers traced the lines of her _vallaslin_ , Andruil’s stylized bow …

They had come such a long way, seasons had past since he had first seen her the cell, confined and unconscious. Another shadow, robbed of her past, of her true nature, of everything that made her own of his own … He had never been so wrong in his whole life. She was bright, a vibrant glimmer of hope in a dark age, one that he himself that wrought … She was not less for what he had denied her even before her birth, she was more as she had bloomed in spite of it.

She truly changed everything.

It seemed centuries ago, not mere years. That, itself, was astonishing.

She shifted in his lap, cradled up and sat, her fingers still intertwined with his. “Lost in thought again?”, she murmured, breathing a kiss to his cheek.

“I was … only thinking how glad I am to have met you, _vhenan._ ”

“I’m glad as well. You’re one of the few good things that happened to me since all of this started, Solas.”

“As are you”, he whispered, trying to chase the gnawing guilt away. If he had succeeded – and part of him still wished he had –, he might have doomed her with all the others, never knowing what he’d destroyed. She made it so much more difficult, and yet he was grateful to know her. Even if this was a mistake, it was one he could not force himself to regret … He came alive with her, as though she was the thing that truly woke him up.

This world was still wrong and cried for restoration, but it was not without a certain beauty, the kind of beauty that only shone brighter as it bloomed in the desert. Like the white flowers that grew even in the blighted lands, resilient and strong in spite of everything.

She was proof of it.

Siryn pressed a kiss to his neck, leaned onto his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, still holding her left hand in his one, almost clinging to it. He had to hold her while he could. Had to remember her as long as she was, for he knew she would not be forever.

But all of this seemed distant in this moment, almost not real.

But she was. Her warmth, her breath at his neck, her hand in his own, her soft and yet strong body pressed to his, her naked shoulders under the blanket – that she had wrapped around the two them while the fire warmed them through and through –, her scent …

In this moment, he could forget it all.

He could lay the Dread Wolf to rest.


End file.
